


Get You Off Of My Mind

by the_sky_is_forever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:56:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2409218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Grantaire tried to not think about Enjolras, and the one time he stopped trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get You Off Of My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> So I literally typed this out in the space of an hour. All mistakes are my own.

You see, I’ve been inclined,

To get you off of my mind,

So I will, I will,

Tonight.

 

-        I Will, Tonight. The Brobecks.

 

Grantaire has tried every method of not thinking about Enjolras. You name it; he’s already done it. The problem is, they never work. He still ends up at Enjolras’ door at 3AM when he’s drunk; he still ends up staring at Enjolras from the back of the Musain; he still ends up ranting at Courfeyrac and Combeferre about Enjolras’ face (and his voice and his hair and his- well, _everything_ ).

* * *

 

The first method: avoid him like he’s the black plague.

This doesn’t work, for obvious reasons. He misses precisely 0.5 meets before he’s back there, having sprinted down the street, out of breath, but sat back in his seat with a bottle of beer.

“You okay, R?” Courfeyrac asks him in a hushed whisper when Grantaire collapses onto a stool.

Grantaire wheezes and manages to get out, “Yeah, just running late, fuck, get me a drink.”

Courf does as he’s asked but spends the rest of the evening watching Grantaire worriedly. Grantaire notices and pulls a face at his friend. He soon goes back to watching Enjolras, however, and it barely takes a minute for him to hate himself. That was just pathetic as an attempt.

It only increases in patheticness when Enjolras approaches him at the end and Grantaire can barely stop his heart from jumping into his mouth.

“You were late, is everything okay?” Enjolras asks, looking and sounding more worried than Grantaire could have ever expected.

Grantaire’s mind goes into free fall and he struggles to come up with an excuse. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are watching from a short distance, a bemused smirk on their faces, and Courfeyrac is forced to leave quickly when he hears Grantaire panic and answer, “My cat tried to jump out my window.”

Enjolras raises his eyebrow. Combeferre snorts and has a coughing fit. Grantaire mentally punches himself in the face. “I didn’t know you had a cat,” Enjolras says.

Grantaire wants to scream, that would be because he DOESN’T. Instead he just gives an awkward laugh and a half shrug. Enjolras smiles, “I’ll have to come round and meet her,” he says.

 _Great_ , Grantaire thinks, _now I’ve got to buy a damn cat_.

(Combeferre makes it his personal mission to ask Grantaire how his cat is every time Enjolras is near from then on.)

* * *

 

Method number two: go on a date with someone else.

Of all the methods that he tries, this is the one he’s most ashamed of. Mostly because he ends up running into Enjolras and hiding in the bathroom for half an hour. But that’s irrelevant, right?

He’s also pretty ashamed because of who he asked out.

So it isn’t exactly a secret that Courfeyrac finds Grantaire attractive. It also isn’t a secret that Combeferre is head over heels for Courfeyrac.

Grantaire really shouldn’t, but he does.

Grantaire slides into the seat next to Courfeyrac, putting on his most seductive smile. He watches Courf for a moment and comes to the conclusion that he’s rather attractive. This could work. If only for a night. Courfeyrac looks up, realising that someone’s next to him. He blinks in surprise at the look Grantaire is giving him. “Hi,” he says.

Grantaire smiles, “Hi.”

Courf puts down his pen and looks expectant, “Is everything- Are you alright?”

Grantaire considers him for a moment longer. This is his last chance to not go through with this. _Fuck it_ , he thinks. “Do you want to get coffee?”

Courf blinks, “What?”

Grantaire smirks, “You, me, coffee, what did you not get there?”

“You mean- Right now? Like- Like a-,” Courf fumbles.

“Like a date,” Grantaire interrupts. Courfeyrac’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, uh, I-,” Courfeyrac glances across the room to where Grantaire _knows_ Enjolras is. “Sure, yes, right, okay.”

Grantaire grins at him. “Perfect.”

Grantaire leaves with Courfeyrac beside him and pretends that he doesn’t see both Combeferre and Enjolras staring.

As they sit down in a café not too far from the Musain, Courfeyrac looks at him curiously, “This is unexpected.” Grantaire just shrugs. He already feels a little guilty, but Courf is smiling at him and that’ll do for now.

He sips at his coffee. Unfortunately because Courfeyrac is also his friend, he knows all about the Enjolras deal. “So, I don’t really want to mention it, but…” he starts slowly. “Are you over Enjolras, or-?”

Grantaire sighs heavily, “ _Really_?”

Courfeyrac raises his hands in innocence and lets it go.

All in all, the date goes well. To a point. Grantaire finds himself genuinely enjoying Courfeyrac’s company and almost being genuinely interested. The problem came when, after two hours, a certain someone came strolling in.

Grantaire lets out a squeak of surprise and Courfeyrac looks round, shocked. “What?” Then he sees Enjolras. “Oh.”

He catches Grantaire’s eye and looks at him flatly, “So, you’re not over Enjolras. Are you?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Call Combeferre,” Grantaire adds on as a last ditch attempt to make up for his being an asshole, before he dives away from the table in the direction of the bathroom and spends the next half an hour sat with the door locked.

(Both Combeferre and Courfeyrac slap him the next time they see him.)

* * *

 

Méthode en trois: get drunk.

Nothing new, nothing different. He wakes up; he drinks. He goes out; he drinks. He gets home; he drinks. (And sometimes he makes a midnight trip to Enjolras’ house.) So, it’s not the most effective method of not thinking about Enjolras, but it can be a good numbing agent against the pain.

Grantaire’s on his third drink when he notices Enjolras glancing his way every now and then. By the fifth, Enjolras is openly distracted. When he picks up his sixth, Enjolras speaks up, interrupting his speech with, “Grantaire, I think you should stop.” People turn to look at Grantaire, not having noticed until Enjolras had pointed it out.

Grantaire glares at him, because how is he supposed to not think about him when he’s talking to him? “I think you should mind your own damn business,” Grantaire slurs back at him.

Enjolras walks over to him determinedly and ignores the way everyone’s watching. “Grantaire,” he says quietly, “Please.” He puts his hand on Grantaire’s wrist, and Grantaire shivers.

“Piss off,” Grantaire mumbles and stumbles to his feet, taking another gulp of the drink as an added ‘fuck you’.

Enjolras watches him worriedly. Courfeyrac and Combeferre get to their feet, ready to help.

Grantaire sways, but manages to stay stood up. Then he leaves, with one last look at Enjolras.

Distantly, he hears Enjolras say, “Okay, meeting over,” tiredly. His stomach churns and he keeps walking.

He makes it maybe a hundred yards before Ferre and Courf catch up to him. They don’t say anything; they’re all in silent agreement that nothing needs saying. They just guide him back to his flat and leave him with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin on the side for when he wakes up in the morning.

He’s not asleep yet, though, and as soon as they leave he gets up again and stumbles to his kitchen in search of more alcohol.

By the time it’s quarter to twelve, he’s still drunk and awake. And now he really can’t stop thinking about Enjolras.

That’s how he ends up slumping along the pavement in the direction – or at least he thinks it’s the direction – of Enjolras’ home.

Luckily, or maybe not, he rocks up on Enjolras’ doorstep as the clock is ticking over to 00:13. He slams his hand against the door. Loudly. Then he remembers that Enjolras never locks his door and lets himself in. God, he hates Enjolras. He’s too much.

He stumbles into Enjolras’ front room. He blinks. The room is much too bright.

“R?” A hesitant voice asks.

“Hi, Apollo,” Grantaire giggles. His eyes have focussed and he can see Enjolras staring at him, sat on the floor at his small coffee table, sheets laid out in front of him and a pen in his hand.

Enjolras gets to his feet slowly, Grantaire stumbles forwards a half step. “Not to be rude, Grantaire, but why are you here?”

Grantaire shrugged and let out another giggle, “I’m drunk,” he whispered loudly as if it were some big secret.

Enjolras sighs heavily. Grantaire takes another step forwards, but his foot gets caught on the edge of the carpet and he tumbles to the ground – or he would have, were it not for the fact that Enjolras dives forwards and grabs him, holding him up, keeping him on his feet.

Enjolras stares down at his friend in worry and Grantaire stares blearily upwards at his… Enjolras.

Enjolras sighs again, “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Gently, Enjolras takes him up the stairs and to his own room, helping him into the bed. Enjolras sits down on the side of the bed carefully, “Are you okay, Grantaire?”

Grantaire frowns at him, “Are you coming in too?”

Enjolras gives him an odd look and shakes his head, “No, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“But here’s closer,” Grantaire protests, drunkenly, “And here’s warmer.”

Enjolras smiles softly, looking down at his friend. He puts his hand on Grantaire’s forehead and brushes the hair out of the way, “Would you like me to stay, R?”

Grantaire nods. That’s how Enjolras and Grantaire end up sharing a bed.

When Grantaire wakes up the next morning his head’s pounding, but that’s nothing compared to what his heart’s doing when he realises that Enjolras’ arm is wrapped around him. He peeks through his lashes and sees what Enjolras looks like when he’s sleeping, and his heart gives out. If he stays here a second longer he’ll have to admit that he’s fallen in-

Grantaire pushes Enjolras’ arm off him roughly and stumbles out of the bed. Enjolras sits up abruptly. The fight that follows isn’t even worth mentioning. And Grantaire started it.

He leaves Enjolras’ house after fifteen minutes.

(They don’t mention it the next time they see each other, and Enjolras doesn’t comment when Grantaire drinks his way through five bottles of beer in a two hour meeting.)

* * *

 

Four: make him hate you.

Not difficult. Not by any standards. But painful. Holy Hell, did it hurt.

Grantaire starts by annoying Enjolras constantly, picking apart his points, ruining meets, getting drunk every night just to upset him. It really doesn’t take long for Enjolras to drag him outside and yell at him.

Grantaire stands there and he takes it. He’s drunk off his skull, and Enjolras is beautiful. Furious, and beautiful.

“You’re good for nothing, Grantaire!” Enjolras shouts, “You have no hope, you have no belief, and you have no use.”

Grantaire nods and wonders why this hurts so much. His fuzzy mind can’t quite focus. “I believe in you,” he says, suddenly, and he’s not sure where it came from.

Enjolras scoffs and looks at him with such despise in his eyes, “Be serious, Grantaire.”

Enjolras is right there, and the streetlight has created fire in his eyes and a golden halo on his head. Grantaire takes a step forwards. Enjolras blinks. He doesn’t step away.

“I am wild,” Grantaire whispers. Enjolras’ jaw slackens, and his lips part slightly. Grantaire, drunk and out of his mind, leans in and captures the surprised look on Enjolras’ face with his lips in a kiss.

There’s a moment where neither of them know what’s happening. Then Enjolras’ mind catches up and his hands come up between them and push Grantaire away, angrily. “What are you doing?” Enjolras demands.

Grantaire stumbles backwards. He struggles for words. He’s left watching as Enjolras storms back inside the Musain.

It seems like that one worked.

(And maybe it was the time he didn’t really want it to.)

* * *

 

Fifth method: lie in bed all day and try not to think full stop.

Advantages to this method: no chance of seeing him, because you don’t leave your bed. Disadvantages to this method: in no way can you stop thinking about him.

Grantaire buries his face in his pillow and fights the urge to scream. Why did he kiss him? Why did he kiss him? That was the exact opposite of helpful.

Courfeyrac sits on Grantaire’s bed, petting his hair softly. He whispers soft words of comfort to him that mean nothing. Combeferre is there too; his hand rests on Grantaire’s back, his thumb rubbing gently.

“He’ll forgive you,” Courfeyrac says. Grantaire mumbles a response that gets muffled and lost in his pillow. “What was that, baby?” Courf asks, leaning in to hear his response.

“He hates me,” Grantaire moans. “I kissed him and he hates me.”

“No,” Ferre says, “He doesn’t hate you, he was just shocked, and that’s all.”

“But I made him hate me,” Grantaire insists, “I was trying to make him hate me, until I kissed him that is.”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchange a look. “Why would you do that?” Courf asks.

Grantaire sighs, “Because if he hated me he’d stop being so nice to me. If he hates me, I can hate him too.”

Combeferre leans down and rests his head on Grantaire’s back, and Courfeyrac resumes his petting, “Guess it didn’t work, huh?”

“Not at all,” Grantaire mumbles.

Eponine shows up a couple of hours later to check up on him, her first move is to throw every bottle of liquor that she can find into a box that she brought with her. She then takes the box out to her car and comes back up. “Alright,” she says, joining the other three on Grantaire’s bed. She pokes Grantaire. “Explain.”

He looks up at her through his eyelashes and frowns. When she persists, he pulls himself into a sitting position, and then spends the next half an hour explaining his five methods to stop thinking about Enjolras. (Courfeyrac flicks him on the forehead when he gets to the date someone else ploy.) He ends with a whimper and says, “And now I love him even more, and he hates me.” The tears start slipping from his eyes without his say and he becomes a trembling, and sober, wreck.

Eponine pulls him into a hug and they sink down into his pillows, “Shh,” she murmurs, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

She holds him close as he falls asleep, but he’s not fast enough to slip into consciousness because he hears a little of their conversation.

“Is he coming?” Eponine asks.

“No, he said he doesn’t want to see him,” Courfeyrac replies.

The last thing Grantaire hears as he drifts away is Combeferre saying, “Guess he finally got what he wanted all along.”

(What he doesn’t hear is Eponine slapping Combeferre for that comment.)

* * *

 

The unplanned and unanticipated method: fuck everything up and wait for him to come to you.

The doorbell rings at 8am, stirring the four friends from their sleep. Eponine untangles herself from Grantaire and stumbles to the front door, pulling it open she pushes her hair from her eyes.

Then she blinks. Then she stares.

“Eponine?” Enjolras asks in surprise – although he really shouldn’t be. He shakes his head, “Can I come in? Is R here?”

Eponine open and closes her mouth and couple of times. “Uh, let me just- Hang on.” She leaves him at the door and sprints back to the bedroom. She wastes no time upon entering and hisses at them, “Enjolras is here.”

Grantaire sits up immediately, “He’s _here?_ ” he asks in shock.

Eponine nods frantically. Courfeyrac immediately pushes Grantaire off the bed, “Go!”

His three friends stare at him as he nervously shuffles out of the door.

Grantaire reaches the hallway and peeks around the corner to the door, where Enjolras is still hovering awkwardly. Grantaire takes a deep breath. “Hey, Apollo,” he says as he steps out, aiming for confidence and achieving fear.

Enjolras looks at him and Grantaire wants to hide. “Hi, Grantaire,” Enjolras replies.

There’s a long moment in which they just stare at each other. Then Enjolras takes and step forwards and Grantaire starts to talk all at once, “I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have kissed you, and I shouldn’t have tried to piss you off, and I shouldn’t have gone on a date with Courf, and I shouldn’t have lied to you about having a cat, and-,”

That’s when Enjolras kisses him.

He pushes him backwards until Grantaire’s back is up against a wall and kisses him for all it is worth. To his credit, Grantaire recovers from his shock quickly and kisses back with every piece of him.

One of them, or probably both, is making needy, desperate sounds, moaning into the kiss. Enjolras’ hands are everywhere, jumping from Grantaire’s waist, to his neck, to his face, to his back, back to his waist, and Grantaire’s hands and firmly twined in Enjolras’ long hair.

Grantaire pulls away first, gasping for air, and he stares at Enjolras wildly. Enjolras is panting, and he rests his head up against Grantaire’s forehead.

“What was that?” Grantaire breathes.

“I don’t know,” is Enjolras’ reply.

“That’s a first,” Grantaire teases, still a little in shock.

Enjolras shakes his head slowly, “I think I love you.” He sounds like he’s just made the most incredible discovery in all of human history. Grantaire lets out a laugh, one filled with the sound of relief and a little panic. Enjolras swears under his breath and laughs gently, “I’m in love with you.”

Grantaire shakes his head, “No, you can’t be. You- You said-.”

“That you were a drunk, and you were useless, and you didn’t believe in anything,” Enjolras reels off, and Grantaire winces, “But I love you anyway. And I didn’t mean those things the way I said them. They’re true, but they’re you.”

Grantaire shakes his head again, “You make no sense,” he says, and then he kisses Enjolras again. “Apollo, you just insulted me, and then told me you meant it kindly,” he explains to Enjolras, with a small smile.

Enjolras laughs and kisses Grantaire, “I guess I did, sorry, I’m not good at this.”

Grantaire raises his eyebrow, “You? Not good with words? Wonders will never cease.”

Then he kisses Enjolras again, for good measure. They don’t notice Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Eponine all sneak out the open door behind them.

(A few moments later, Enjolras frowns at him and asks, “What do you mean you don’t have a cat?”)

**Author's Note:**

> I have a writing blog: theskyis-forever come say hi and leave a prompt :)  
> Also, if you enjoyed this: [buy me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)


End file.
